to the future friends who will become my potential lovers
I need to warn you
there aren’t many rules for dealing with me
but I have one hard line in the sand that you shouldn’t cross
I am not something to be tolerated
I’m sometimes brash and loud
sometimes impossibly quiet and closed off
an odd construct of witchcraft and geekery and words
so many words
we don’t have to be two of a kind
that’s boring
but you have to accept all my pieces
my magic is non-negotiable
a part of me just like my skin
I write and write and write
until I’m empty for a moment
only finding stillness after pouring my blood onto pages
it’s just the way I function
and you’ll have to embrace that
if we’re to be something important
I’ve spent years being tolerated by lovers and friends
who didn’t appreciate my deeper waters
and the fish that swim in them
I’m done being an undesired experience
so learn to love me in all my oddity
or let me remain distant
an acquaintance and nothing more
Tag: Love / Heartbreak
obviously any poems about love, heartbreak, and relationships
lost [poem]
I’m lost without you
my sweet not-yet lover
I wonder if you’re lost without me too
in this too big but so small world
it feels like every sunset
between now and meeting you
is an eternity wasted
l feel my morality most when it’s dark out
and the moon pulls at the tides of my heart
I am helpless to resist the longing night brings here
I’ve been alone now almost two years without
another’s touch
someone loving all of this mess
I admit it though
I’m weak
hopelessness easier to embrace
in the face of immeasurable time until you’re here
easier than believing in you at all
my heart is torn
between wanting you to be here now
and wanting you to stay away forever
loving you is a terrifying thing
and some nights
I’m too lost to face my fears
beautiful reflection [poem]
I might be
that lilac lover
that peach blossom princess
I might be that soft
sweet woman you’re looking for
at first glance
you might think me butch
too rough edged and sturdy for that kind of loving
but look closer
listen to the way I talk about life
feel the warmth of my casual affections
as we watch a movie and talk over the slow parts
you’ll see it then
love
the deep rooted flexibility
the way I seek out someone to balance that
with its opposite
a well formed strength
a forceful heart guiding surprisingly gentle hands
we might be
a beautiful reflection of each other
your need for me based in
what I bring to the table that you lack
balance
love
it will always be about balance
between the two of us
blister [poem]
for as long as I could remember
I’ve been allergic to mosquitoes
each bite an angry red welt topped with a blister unpopped the itching is madness
but a busted blister means pain
bleeding
sometimes a new scar
I often chose to stop the itching
to seek relief
even if it’d be better to wait it out
to leave the bite untouched
you are a mosquito
and loving you has been an angry festering lump
under my skin
I write poems to you
about you
I scratch carefully around the blister of us
until that no longer provides relief
eventually
my nails will break the skin
my words will burst the abscess in my heart
until the itching stops
until I can stop loving you
it’ll leave a scar
sure
but I can’t wait for this incessant insanity
to finally end
I can’t wait to meet you [poem]
dearest love
I spend more time thinking about you
than I do writing poetry
I think about how
I won’t love you until we’ve become close friends
but we can’t become friends at all
until I talk to people about things other than work
but I can’t talk to strangers
until I lower these walls I’ve built
from my own wreckage
but I’m not ready to take down the walls
and be exposed
I realize
this is a temporary problem
that eventually my natural need to socialize
will win out over my fear of
starting over
my too big heart will grab onto your smile
and love you without my say so
sweetie
you will find your way into my life somehow
even if I can’t imagine
the where or when or how
right now
I can’t wait to meet you
your anger [poem]
you tell me you have too much violence inside of you
that you give into the desire to rage and burn
too often and too easily
you speak of yourself as if you were a chainsaw
flung against innocent flesh
brutal and bloody in your fury
but you’re wrong
I’ve watched your anger blossom across your skin
like ice crystals across glass windowpanes
you my dear
are an assassin’s well-oiled gun
your heat tempered by cold and clinical control
the desire to avoid the attention that collateral damage causes
you don’t often shoot
instead brandishing your icy irritation
as a warning to those who cross you
so forget your worries love
your ire burns only those who fail to heed the warnings
of your trigger hand’s tilt
harsh feelings [poem]
I am not a fan of harsh feelings
I dislike the acrid taste of rage
the burn of anger’s bitterness on my tongue
I don’t favor fury
don’t embrace the inferno that rises with its arrival
I’m not a sharpened sword
a weapon for enemies to fall upon
my heart is too soft for that
it’s all gentle breezes and quiet music and love
even in my anger there is love
to hate is to forcefully stop loving you
to erase you from my heart completely
giving you no laughter or tears anymore
until you are lost to me
forgotten on purpose
and left behind
every syllable is for you [poem]
I imagine you wonder why you’re reading these poems
why I say I wrote them for you
when they clearly span days where you were nothing but
a vague form in the distance
maybe some of them will make you smirk
my smart mouth obvious in every line
it’s a reminder of why you love me
or maybe some of them will make you frown
eyebrows drawn together
as you try and fail
to fit pieces of my poetry to yourself
you think I must’ve been looking for someone else
so why’d I end up with you
or maybe some of them make you flinch
the rawness of my words flaying my heart open
an uncomfortable image of who I am
you don’t know if you’re okay with it
the bloody mess my love will bring your way if you stay
or maybe some of them won’t even be read
because you’re too polite to tell me
you’re not into poetry
and the way writers expose those around them
in every line
I imagine this is hard
loving a person who’s written you
a book of hopes and fears
before even learning your name
that choosing to read the pages without skimming
is a daunting task
but I appreciate the effort it takes to do this
to get to know me this way
I promise these poems really are for you
love in every syllable
as is [poem]
my femininity is a complex relationship
between expectations and exploration
you’ll see it early on in our friendship
my hairy armpits and unshaved legs
my bright coloured dresses
and a flower in my peach blossom hair
I read romance stories like they’re water
and I’m dying of thirst
but I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty
in the middle of something sweaty
and exhausting
these things aren’t for men or for women
we know that
but society makes us feel a certain way
about a woman’s body
like there’s only one right way to use it
I’m soft
sure
curves in places men find satisfying
but I’m human
my body’s hair and sweat and pain
are just like anybody else’s
I refuse to alter my appearance
for public consumption anymore
you could call this my little feminist stand
in my corner of America
if you decide to want this body
just remember
it comes as is
awkward [poem]
I’m awkward
like
really awkward
like the kind of awkward that
answers questions on Tuesday
with a wobbly half smile
but tells you all about high school
over a ten minute break
I pick up buckets of my history
and dump them over your head like cold water
never expecting more than a vague wetness
to linger in your mind when I finally
shut up
I don’t know how to hold back
my all or nothing mouth has no
adjustable dial
to limit the madness
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you find it endearing rather than annoying
that my long rambles entertain you
in their randomness
I swear I’m not making this shit up
this really is my life
three measly decades of odd moments
that sound like eons when I spin their tale out loud
I want you to hear me
to learn my history in the anecdotes I share
but I want to be quiet sometimes too
maybe you can tell me your stories
to fill the awkward silence
don’t lie to a storyteller [poem]
I’m a storyteller and a grudge holder
and that is to say
I will tell others our story because I played a part in it
and I won’t often place you in the brightest light
if you hurt me
lie to me
break my heart
I will weave my hurt into a tapestry of betrayal
my audience’s reactions to your actions
a soothing balm
I won’t be malicious though
won’t slip untruths between the layers
if I’m unburdening myself of our twisted history
the story already has a bitter end
I won’t need to add anything
to make you the monster under the bed
consider this your warning
a cautionary tale
about approaching my well-worn heart
with anything less than honesty
you will not like the stories told if you lie to me
silence [poem]
I hope you like silence
love
that the lack of conversation doesn’t
twist your stomach into knots
that you don’t expect our interactions
to always come with the volume turned way up
loving me will often require stillness
eyes glued to words from the latest story
I’ve dug myself into
I hope you can love me then
in the absent moments
when I am there
but not there in the room with you
I hope you know how to handle the emptiness
until I come back surfacing for air
your quiet presence
the only thing to ground me back into this world
this reality
if I cry, run [poem]
they say that love means being there to witness
the laughter and the tears
but know this
I express my pain in
careful keystrokes and clever syntax
I can hand you poetry and prose to fill a library
with my hurts and happiness
you can read my heart in my words
nothing hidden or buried in my open honesty
but I do not simply cry
so if you’re seeing me red eyed and sobbing
it is no gift
no sign of trust
my tears are no cleansing rain
no holy water salvation
granting you entry into my inner temple
they are hurt
they are hurt
they are gut wrenching pain
if you see me cry
you are watching a disaster in action
you’re just an innocent bystander at ground zero
my tears the toxic fallout
after an atomic bomb hits my heart dead center
it leaves my feelings raw and radioactive
too dangerous for anyone to touch
if you witness my destruction
I strongly suggest
you run
Larissa Lee 